“I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.” ~ Anne Sexton
How can anyone not fall into wonder with the first snow of the season? It brings out the child in all of us, tapping into everything that was and is hopeful. For those of us in New England and in other wintry regions, we are draped in nostalgia. Building snowmen, constructing forts, and having snowball fights. Listening with anticipation in hopes that the firehouse horns announce a day off from school. Heck, I even have fond memories of shoveling the driveway and walk with my brothers and sisters. We were all bundled with thick gloves, hats, and winter coats. Our noses and cheeks were rosy by the time we finished. We had to shake off the snow and remove our boots in the cramped and drafty back hall. Inside, my mother would be at the stove with those godawful steel and leather …
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